The Hand of Yevon
by Enromerc
Summary: Sequel to The Next Chapter. Some time after the defeat of 'the Devil', Corlan sits in Besaid. His memories plaque him, and his only form of release is to chase the mystery of his father.


A/N: Before I forget, no infringement of copyright is intended to Square. Also, there may be a reference to Callandor in this story, in which case, no infringement of copyright is intended to Robert Jordan either. So, this is the sequel to my other story, The Next Chapter. It's possible to read this alone, but it'll make more sense if you read the other one first. 

This one probably won't be as long as The Next Chapter, but you never know. And also, the rating of this is liable to go up, since one of the chapters I'm planning to write has the potential to be very graphic.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the sequel. Here it is…

Chapter 1: Aftermath 

Corlan was sitting in the Crusaders tent in Besaid, contemplating his life now. Things were certainly… different now. For one thing, it seemed that he was taking up permanent residence in Besaid. He didn't really have anywhere else to go, and what better place to be than with your friends, or at least, that's what he'd thought, all that time ago. _Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all_, he thought. That thought was also a change, and maybe a good change for once. Most of the time, he had to struggle not to recall _why _he couldn't return home.

For that matter, Rikku was also taking up permanent residence. With Cid and Brother both dead, she didn't have anywhere else to go either. She'd cancelled her plans to go to Bikanel Desert, saying that there would have been no point, with no one to visit. _Well Rikku at least has a place to stay_, thought Corlan. The bitterness in his thought almost surprised him, but then again, over the last few months some of his thoughts had been far more bitter. The thought was true, at least. Rikku's hut had been finished by the time they had returned to Besaid, 6 months ago; Corlan's hut was in the process of being built; it would be ready soon, and until then he would just have to put up with sleeping in the Crusaders tent with all of the Aurochs. Keepa snored particularly loudly.

But that wasn't the extent of the change. The change had really started on their journey back to Besaid from the Calm Lands. Kimahri had gone straight to Mount Gagazet from the Calm Lands, and not surprisingly, Barthello had died that day on the Calm Lands. Corlan thought that he should have felt some kind of remorse for Barthello's death, but he didn't. He'd only known Barthello for about a month, and had only spoken to him for the last few days of that month. Corlan could probably count the number of words Barthello had said, to _anyone_, on his two hands.

So it had only been him, Yuna, Lulu, Rikku, and Wakka who had made the journey back to Besaid, by foot. They would have taken the Airship home, if Seymour hadn't blown it up. The entire way, people had clapped them on the back in congratulations. Yuna had even stopped in Bevelle and Luca to give speeches to the masses, as she had done on her previous pilgrimage. Corlan had overheard Rikku saying that the fame and glory was far less than it had been for their first pilgrimage, but to Corlan, fame and glory was fame and glory. Some had even remembered him as the 'Star of the Aurochs', and these people were even more loud and enthusiastic than the others. People had even called him _Sir_ Corlan. _People actually know who I am!_, he had thought. _Maybe I am the main character in my own story_. That last had been a dangerous thought, a thought from a time that he would rather forget. Most of the time, his time as Emperor of Spira was easy to forget, since most of his memories of it were hazy at best. But some of the memories of that time still managed to creep up on him

And now, 6 months later, sitting in this tent in Besaid, he could hardly remember what the 'fame and glory' felt like.

But even that wasn't the extent of the change. This one had started all that time ago on the Calm Lands, when he had very nearly killed all of his friends. After the battle they'd all acted completely normal, as if nothing had happened, but Corlan was still suspicious. How could they _not_ dislike him after what he'd done? For all they acted completely normal around him, Corlan couldn't help but feel awkward around the rest of them. The more time Corlan spent with them, the more 'normal' they acted, which only served to drive him to greater suspicion, as if they were only using their normalcy as a cover for the hatred that they obviously felt for him. Slowly but surely, they had all shown their true colours, and started to drift away from him. Or was he drifting away from them? No, it just _had_ to be them. _How could they ever forgive me?_

So here he was, sitting in this tent, completely alone. He hadn't spoken to anyone in days, and he wasn't sure whether that was what he wanted or not. Corlan let his thoughts wonder. Concentrating on _not_ thinking of his mother inevitably led to just that. And thoughts of his mother then led to his father.

Most of the time, Corlan could think of his father and nothing would happen. His father had died close to 8 years ago, and he had had plenty of time to come to terms with his death. However, sometimes, and without Corlan ever remembering their occurrences, thoughts of his father made his blood boil, and a rage greater than anything suffused his body and soul. He had had his last 'attack' what seemed a lifetime ago, on the day that he'd met Lulu and Rikku. Of course, he couldn't remember the attacks, so he couldn't have known that their occurrences were slowly becoming more rare. Unfortunately, his streak was about to be broken.

_Sin! Sin's fault! Die Sin! Burn!_

And then it was over.

Thinking about his father, Corlan suddenly made a surprising discovery. Thinking back to an encounter he'd had with a friend of his father's, Rygel Guado, Corlan remembered that Rygel had a tattoo of a left hand on the nape of his neck. Corlan couldn't understand why he had remembered the fact, but he remembered that the tattoo had struck him as odd when he had first spotted it. That was probably the reason why he had remembered it at all.

The only other person he had met who knew his father, he had met on a day he would never forget. The day he walked into the Macalania Travel Agency. These were definitely his worst memories. _How can they be my worst memories? _Corlan thought._ I have memories of almost killing my friends. I have memories of killing my own mother…_ But, for whatever reason, they were Corlan's worst memories, the most haunting. Certain aspects of that day he still had trouble recalling, and other aspects he could still remember with incredible clarity, even though he'd rather forget. Something from that day that he had only remembered just now struck him. It had been a dying man, who had grasped Corlan's ankle thinking that he was Jarith, his father. That man had also had a tattoo on the back of his neck.

Two people, who both knew his father, had that tattoo on the back of their necks. It couldn't be a coincidence. Before Corlan even knew that he had thought it, his mind was made up. He was going to leave Besaid to solve the mystery surrounding his father. Sure, a couple of tattoos didn't _technically_ classify as a mystery, but at that moment it didn't seem to matter.

He was leaving Besaid.


End file.
